


The second (and third, and fourth, and fifth) coming

by Petra



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, Sex Education, Sex Toys, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are plenty of people in the world who are better at sex than Sidney, basically everybody who's tried to do it more than three times and got past handjobs, so when he decides he needs some help, he seeks out experts--or rather, sexperts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The second (and third, and fourth, and fifth) coming

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://thefourthvine.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**thefourthvine**](http://thefourthvine.dreamwidth.org/), who wanted "Sidney Crosby, Sex God." Thanks to [](http://askmehow.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**askmehow**](http://askmehow.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/salvamisandwich/profile)[**salvamisandwich**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/salvamisandwich/) for brainstorming, [](http://derryderrydown.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**derryderrydown**](http://derryderrydown.dreamwidth.org/), [](http://jamjar.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**jamjar**](http://jamjar.dreamwidth.org/) & [](http://sage.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sage**](http://sage.dreamwidth.org/) for alpha-reading, and [](http://lightgetsin.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lightgetsin**](http://lightgetsin.dreamwidth.org/) & [](http://thefourthvine.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://thefourthvine.dreamwidth.org/)**thefourthvine** for beta-reading.

The worst possible time to fall in love with someone--or to figure out that it's happened, a while ago, maybe--is in the middle of the playoffs. There's too much else to do to worry about the weird feelings that have to do with love, and it's not like anybody has any extra energy for talking, let alone having sex.

Sidney decides not to say anything when the penny drops for him. There will be time after the playoffs end. Geno will be around, and whatever the hell happens next will happen when they can deal with it. He carefully doesn't put a date to that in his head because there's no point in tempting fate. They'll get as far as they get.

Which isn't fucking far, not this year, when they're knocked out by the fucking Flyers in the first round. Nobody's in any mood to talk about love or sex, least of all Sidney. He doesn't back down from challenges, and this isn't something he's going to give up on, but the last thing he wants to deal with is another kind of rejection, another failure on top of everything else.

He doesn't say anything.

Geno goes to Russia for the summer. They talk, they text, and Sidney keeps not saying anything about it, not to Geno, not to anybody else.

The worst part is that he's afraid. The last time Sidney had sex it was awkward as all hell, and also years ago. He hasn't gotten any practice since then, and if everything works out, if Geno has anything like the same feelings Sidney does, the last thing Sidney wants to do is embarrass himself by looking like he doesn't know what he's doing.

Summers are for training and preparing for the next season. There are plenty of people in the world who are better at sex than Sidney, basically everybody who's tried to do it more than three times and got past handjobs, so when he decides he needs some help, he seeks out experts--or rather, sexperts.

Ms. Bright--"Please, Sidney, call me Susie"--is really helpful. She has lots of ideas about sex that have never occurred to Sidney, and she's willing to Skype with him to answer his questions. She agrees not to mention it to anybody, on a couple of conditions, one of which is that he doesn't wear a shirt while they're talking. He's talked to the media wearing a lot less, so it's no big deal.

It's harder to find someone to get hands-on coaching from who's good enough to be worth the time. Sure, Sidney could probably find people who'd have sex with him, and it might be good for low-level practice. But if he ran into someone else who's as much of an amateur as he is, he wouldn't be able to tell. After some suggestions about movies and the people who make them from Susie, and a whole bunch of emails about non-disclosure agreements that run both ways, Sidney visits "Randy Hardmore" while he's in LA.

Names are names, and Sidney doesn't judge. He definitely isn't going to tell Randy he lost his virginity to a guy named John Johnson. At least Randy got to pick his own name.

"Holy fuck," Randy says when they finally meet each other in a hotel room. "Okay, sorry, I mean, hi. Man, I was braced for this whole thing to be a joke."

"Hi," Sidney says. "It's not." He runs through the basics of what he wants so Randy knows what they're working with, because it's not like he wants to waste their time. He's paid Randy a consulting fee for three days, which is legally not the same thing as paying for sex. Consultation is easier to spin if things get into the media. Besides, if Randy doesn't touch him but manages to teach him everything he needs to know, that will be just fine with Sidney.

"Um. Before we do anything, can I--can I touch your ass?"

That seems like they're going a little fast to Sidney, but at least Randy asked. "No problem."

"Awesome," Randy says. Before, during, and after. Sidney's had worse squeezes from players who accused him of stuffing his shorts.

"Thanks." Randy looks a little dazed, but he shakes his head to snap himself out of it. Then they get down to business. It feels weird talking through a whole different kind of power plays without a whiteboard to work with, but after a while they relax around each other. Randy answers all his questions with more detail than Susie could. No matter how hard she tried. Okay, some of the questions like "What kind of stimulation do you prefer on your frenulum?" and "When do you prefer vibration in prostate stimulation as opposed to solid, stationary objects, or penetrative objects?" are going to be different from person to person, and Randy's answer to "What's the best time-frame to prepare oneself for anal penetration in the medium-to-long term future?" is the same as Susie's. Still, it's good to get the information first-hand.

And he's kind of cute. Not that it matters that he's cute, exactly, since Sidney doesn't want him for his body, just what he knows.

The first four times Sidney gets off with him, Randy doesn't even touch him, just gives him instructions that start out doctor-clinical and get a little breathier as they go along. It's easier to listen to, "Just up to the second knuckle for right now, don't get ambitious, okay, withdraw and breathe," and stay focused on the physical task. He almost forgets it's a lesson when Randy's saying, "Mm, the way you take it--harder, yeah," which sounds like bad porn dialogue when Sidney thinks about it later. At the time, it illustrates some of Susie's lessons about the brain being the biggest sex organ.

They have actual sex while they're touching each other after lunch on the second day. Sidney's got the whole thing planned in his head and in an encrypted file on his computer, and it goes to plan except for the part where he almost elbows Randy, the couple of moments when he can't figure out where to put his knees, and the times he pushes himself too hard and gags.

"How do I avoid those mistakes?" Sidney asks afterward, and takes careful notes on everything Randy says.

When he asks for clarification too many times in a row, Randy reminds him, "Everybody's different, at least a little bit. Your guy might like different things than I do. You have to be ready to adapt."

Part of the agreement with Susie is that Sidney won't tell anybody else he's talking to her unless it's okay for her to do the same thing, so he doesn't tell Randy he's heard that about a thousand times now. "I'll keep that in mind," he says. "Can we try again?"

"Sure. Don't forget your breathing."

"Got it."

Randy makes them stop when Sidney gets frustrated. "You can't consciously control all your muscles the second time," he says, frowning at Sidney like a coach who wants him to stay on the bench with an injury.

"It's not the second time, it's the sixth," Sidney says. "Give it another try."

"I don't want to hurt you."

Sidney laughs and rolls them over so he can pin Randy down. "You won't. Come on."

He gets it the next day on the tenth try, just before they have to shower and hand in their room keys. "Thanks," he says to Randy, and shakes his hand. "The money's in your account."

"Great." Randy holds onto Sidney's hand a little too long, and that's enough warning that he's about to go Weird Fan. "You know, if you ever want a new job, I'll hook you up. I know people who know people."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sidney says, but he's sure Randy's just flattering him.

Randy doesn't let his hand go. "Can I have your autograph? For my boyfriend? He's from--"

"No problem." Sidney takes the "looking for a pen" moment as an opportunity to get his hand back, and then he makes an excuse about having to catch his flight home and leaves before things get any more uncomfortable.

He practices every day.

It's easy enough to do a lot of the conditioning stuff Randy talked about on his own, since he has all the equipment he needs after some well-directed shopping. He learns the quality differences sex toys, gets a lecture on the evils of phthalates from Susie, and keeps up his training.

Sometimes Sidney calls Randy with a question, or emails him, then makes sure he gets an invoice for billable time. He's not trying to get anything for free from the professionals--except that Susie's money all goes to different charities. Half of it's for You Can Play because Susie thinks it's great, and also it makes her smile that he's giving them steady money on her behalf, as an "Anonymous Donor." When everything's settled, whatever that means, he'll come out; that was part of the agreement he made with her.

There are enough ifs and buts in that agreement that it could happen any time down to five seconds before he retires and still fulfill it. He's been waiting for the right moment to make an announcement since anyone would've cared what he had to say, and he's going to keep waiting until he finds it. It makes him feel better to promise someone else out loud that it will happen someday. He's made the promise enough times in his head when he met kids with two dads or two moms. Someone has to set an example.

Someday it might even be him.

Then things go from stalled to stopped with the NHL.

Sidney takes out some of his frustrations with some independent subcontractors who he compensates in dinner and hotel rooms, here and there in places where people don't pay much attention to hockey. They're not professionals, just people who don't have a clue who he is. And they're definitely not boyfriends, or even partners, and he doesn't want them to be.

He reports back to Randy about some of them, and complains to Susie about others who could really use her positive consent model. "Why would you just pull someone's hair?"

"Did you negotiate boundaries first?" she asks him, and she must be able to read his answer in his expression because she clucks her tongue. "It's not just on your partner to make sure they know what you want."

"I know." Sidney sighs. "I wasn't expecting that to make me orgasm, that's all."

And then there are the talks from hell.

Sidney takes his mind off them as best he can by exercising--when the lockout ends, and he always thinks when, not if, he's going to be in the best shape of his life--and by trying new things.

Randy's suggestions include orgies and double penetration, both of which sound like a public relations nightmare until Sidney asks Susie about them.

"Oh, Sidney," she says, and she sounds like his mom when he tracks mud into the house. "I can't talk long right now. One of my friends is visiting." From the way she smiles when she says that, he's sure she means "sex partner." "She does this kind of work, too."

"This kind of work" for Susie could be anything from performance art to sex education. Whatever the woman's qualifications are, if Susie thinks she's impressive enough to have sex with, Sidney's interested in talking to her. "Do you think she'd sign an NDA?" Before Susie can ask whether he's tired of her--which he's not--he adds, "It's always good to get several opinions."

"I'll ask her," Susie says. She gets up from the computer and comes back a few minutes later, which is about how long it takes Sidney to find the blanket NDA and get it ready to email. "She says yes. We'll call you back in a few minutes."

"Wonderful."

"Same terms as mine, though," Susie says before she signs off.

"Okay, okay."

Susie's friend Tamara is gorgeous in ways Sidney appreciates on a purely aesthetic level. She's maybe in her forties, and she looks like she's lived a wonderful life and enjoyed herself. Sidney has been experimenting with all kinds of stimuli, including people of different genders, and he's pretty sure he's about a Kinsey 5, outdated though that measuring system is; he definitely doesn't want to have sex with Tamara, but he enjoys looking at her. He introduces himself and then wonders if he should be using a fake name with her--but she's Susie's friend, and Susie wouldn't vouch for her if she weren't trustworthy.

"Good to meet you, Sidney," Tamara says. Over the Skype connection, he can't quite see her give him a once-over, but he can just about feel it anyway.

Susie leaves him a small gap in the conversation, so he tells Tamara, "We were just talking about scenarios that usually involve multiple partners and how to make them work when you're--um--single. Or monogamous."

"And closeted." Tamara's disappointed face is almost as hard to take as Susie's.

He doesn't trust her, or want her trust, enough to go into the details. "I have plans in place for that as an option in the future, but they're complicated."

"It's always too complicated till you open your mouth and say it," Tamara says.

Sidney feels his media smile settling into place. She doesn't know anything about who he wants or how messy things will be for Geno, if everything works the way Sidney wants it to, if that means Sidney coming out someday might make people wonder about Geno, especially Russian people. He's talked about it with Susie, but she's kind of his friend now, along with being one of his coaches. No way is he going to start a conversation about it with Tamara when it will only make him frustrated and remind him that he doesn't know when he'll see Geno again or when they'll get a chance to play.

Or, and sometimes it feels worse to think about, when they'll get a chance to talk, and what Geno might say then. In his best soundbite voice, Sidney says, "I have some questions for you, ma'am. If you don't want to answer them, you can consider this consultation over."

Tamara says something in Susie's ear and Susie answers her. Sidney can't hear the words, but Susie's tone is sharp. "My apologies," Tamara says, and she nods toward the computer. "Go on."

His question about experimenting with double penetration by himself takes them longer to answer than he's expecting. The really obvious answer is, "Get two toys," but then Susie says, "The suction cups would make the angle harder, and most of them don't hold onto a vertical surface strongly enough to--well, Sidney, stand up for a moment. Let Tamara see what we're working with here."

Tamara whistles when he does. "Yes, that is a challenge. Where's your bath toybox, sweetheart?" She stands up too and walks away from the computer.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Sidney says when Tamara's out of the room.

"You weren't. You were setting strong boundaries and sticking to them."

He relaxes a little because he knows that's praise from Susie, and she doesn't hand that out unless he earns it. "Okay."

"Maybe you could superglue a dildo to the wall--or a bathroom door," Tamara suggests as she comes back into the camera's range with four toys in her hand.

Sidney coughs. "Maybe when I have my own place." He's in his own house when he says it, but sometimes Cole Harbour doesn't feel like it's a permanent home. Whenever he thinks about sex in the long term, he thinks about Pittsburgh and about Geno. But he's going to do his best never to think about gluing sex toys to the walls of Mario's washroom, ever again.

Tamara nods sympathetically. "Housemates can ask some difficult questions."

"Installing a fixture might work, though," Susie says. She turns one of the dildos in her hands. "If you had something with a firm enough base, and you got out the stud-finder--"

"Yours is working great." Tamara nudges Susie and they laugh.

It's taken Sidney a while to get used to people he thinks of as "ladies" laughing uproariously about sex, but he's proud of himself for getting there. He's not even blushing. "Maybe I'll put that off until I have a partner," he says.

"You don't have a--"

He interrupts Tamara, and that time he's definitely being rude. "It's complicated."

"Remember the time I did the fisting demonstration?" Susie asks Tamara. "That was an adventure, even though I did some prep for it."

"I bet it was. Want to try it again?"

Susie kisses her cheek. "Yes, definitely. Later."

Something in Sidney's stomach hurts, not because he wants either of them as a partner, but because he wants to feel that easy around someone. "What kind of prep did you do?" he asks.

Before he signs off, he has a couple of fisting dildos in the mail. They look like oddly aggressive mannequin parts, and the dimensions are pretty intimidating. "Don't push yourself too fast," Susie tells him, and winks.

"I won't," he promises.

The CBA talks keep going nowhere until Sidney wants to pull out all his hair, or pull out all of Gary Bettman's hair and put it on a voodoo doll. If he didn't have a secondary project to keep him busy, he's afraid he'd lose his mind.

In November, he learns that American Thanksgiving is horrible without his whole team, that Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales happen in sex shops, too, and that with the right stimulation he can be multi-orgasmic.

Randy says, "Way to go," when Sidney tells him in one of their phone consultations. "You know that job offer with my company is still open if you want it."

Sidney sighs and wishes no one would mention the lockout to him ever again. "No, thanks. We'll get through this."

"How did the ice cubes go?"

"I don't think I'll do it again." The ice had been familiar and unfamiliar, and had made him strangely homesick. "It helped with the nipple clamps, you were right, but the candles were better."

Randy sighs. "Wish I could've been there."

For a moment, Sidney considers offering to Skype him the next time, but it seems too informal for a consultant relationship. "I didn't need any help. Your instructions were more than clear enough, and the adjustable cock ring was great. Thanks for the suggestions."

"Any time, man."

Sidney checks his notes. They've worked through most of what he wanted to ask about, and he has a couple of lines from the last meeting saying Randy was being too familiar then, too. "I'd better go," he says. "Bill me."

"You got it. Talk to you later."

He's been paying Randy on a per-session basis with no ongoing retainer. It will be annoying to have to replace him; they have a sort of rapport they've built up over the months. But sometimes, it's better to get rid of a coach who's pushing the wrong way or not pushing enough. Sidney writes, "Thank you for your time; your services are no longer required," paper-clips the memo to Randy's last check, and sends it off.

The phone he's been using to contact Randy is pay-as-you-go, so he runs the minutes down talking to Jack and Taylor, then lets the contract expire. Randy doesn't try to call him back.

When he tells Susie about it, it hurts a little more than he expects it to, but not enough that Sidney worries about it. "I didn't want it to be too complicated, but, um, is it weird that I miss him?"

"No, dear," she says, and gives him one of those smiles that looks nothing like his mom but feels familiar anyway. "Even if he was only ever your employee--sorry, contractor--you shared things with him you haven't shared with people you love."

"I guess," Sidney says. He hasn't told anybody about what he's been doing. The times when he's spent all night experimenting and shown up to negotiations or practices looking exhausted, no one has asked if he's okay, which makes him wonder how bad he looks even when he's getting enough sleep. "I don't miss him the way I miss--other people." He doesn't say Geno's name, not to Susie or anyone. That's one of the pieces he's going to hold back no matter how many NDAs are protecting them.

"Have you thought about how you're going to tell him how you feel?" Susie asks. She doesn't know that Geno's on another continent--at least, Sidney's pretty sure he hasn't made that clear--but he's told her he's waiting till after the lockout.

Still, the question's weird. "I'm just going to tell him," he says.

She presses her lips together. Sidney hasn't seen that expression in quite that way since he invented peanut butter-mayo-bacon-avocado sandwiches. This is bigger than a sandwich, though. "May I recommend a few books for you?"

"Sure." Sidney's been through all the books Susie has pointed him towards. Sometimes during the CBA discussions he catches himself doodling anatomically precise diagrams of genitalia and labeling them.

He gives up two pages into _Romance for Dummies_ because it's all about being in touch with his feelings and talking about them. He's absolutely in touch with his feelings. He likes Geno and he hopes Geno likes him. That won't be hard to say, and it definitely won't be hard to show Geno that Sidney means it, not with all the practice he's got now. It's not like the later chapters about doing things together with a partner are going to help until the lockout's over, either, and just looking at the chapter headings makes him miss Geno. None of the other books are any better.

"Did you read them?" Susie asks in their next session.

Sidney doesn't want to start lying to her. He didn't lie to her about the time he almost had a threesome and chickened out. He didn't lie to her about the time he left a guy's room because he said he was from Philadelphia at exactly the wrong moment. He didn't lie to her about how weird it was the couple of times he's kissed girls.

"I tried," he admits. "I didn't get very far."

"Sidney--"

He hates that disappointed tone. "I wrote out some of the things I'm thinking of saying instead. I mean, I'm not going to share them with you because they're private, but I have a lot of ideas." He shows her the paper he started working on with a bunch of scratched-out words and edits. "I am thinking about it. A lot. It's not like I'm just going to wing this."

She smiles sadly at him. "No, I didn't think you would. But if you're not going to take my advice, what good am I to you as a consultant? You haven't been experimenting for weeks now."

"I could start again," he offers. "If I tried having sex with women I'd really need more advice."

Susie laughs at him. It doesn't hurt any more than when the guys chirp him in the locker room--and if he's missing that, the lockout has obviously gone on way, way too long. "You don't have to go down on women to impress me. I enjoy our conversations, but I don't know what you're getting out of them on a professional level."

"I enjoy them, too," Sidney says. He doesn't have a list of pros and cons for her, or anything else he really needs at the moment, but he doesn't want to stop talking to her. "Are you starting a new project?"

"I'm always starting new projects. That's what keeps me young." Her mouth twists like she's about to smile. "Relatively speaking. Anyway, call me whenever you want."

"I can pay you more if that's part of the problem," Sidney offers.

Susie shakes her head. "The only payment I want from you that you haven't given me is the international headlines you'll make when you come out--maybe with your partner."

Sidney swallows around a lump in his throat and doesn't remind her that the timeline on that is extremely long and up in the air. "I don't even know if he wants me."

"There are plenty of other fish in the sea. And players in your NHL who would fuck you in a New York minute."

"Maybe."

She laughs again. "Maybe I should have made you read _Flirting for Dummies_ instead."

"Does that exist?"

"Probably." Susie shrugs. "Open your eyes a little more, that's all."

Sidney nods, but he's already planning to ignore that instruction. If Geno doesn't want him--no, that doesn't make sense. If Geno doesn't want him, or if it doesn't work out, he might take Susie's advice. Until then--whenever they finally get to talk--he's holding out. "Okay. I'll let you get back to work. Thank you."

"Don't be a stranger. You know where to find me." Susie blows him a kiss and signs off.

December goes on at least three weeks longer than any month should, especially a month that has Christmas in it. He has his family over and he spends time with friends, with all of the new equipment in the house carefully locked away so that no one will stumble onto them and wonder what he's been doing.

It's been years since he told his parents he thought he might possibly be gay, and he'd only said it then because he was in love. They haven't brought it up since, although sometimes his mother gives him a look that makes him think she's worrying about him, or his father will point out a beautiful woman and then start coughing. He never quite apologizes for mentioning women, and he doesn't mention handsome men, but there's something there.

Sidney's not going to say anything one way or the other until it's a pressing issue. The last thing he needs this Christmas is to be their gay son who's not dating on top of being their hockey-player son who's not playing hockey.

He hasn't sent Geno any presents because that would have meant giving in and believing that the lockout would still be going on by Christmas. He has two all ready for the big day, along with the presents for the rest of the team. Instead of calling him and apologizing for being late, Sidney texts him with, "Merry My Christmas! :)"

Geno writes back, "merry your christmas ))))))" and it's stupid how much it makes Sidney smile.

He doesn't write, "I miss you," and he definitely doesn't call to say it, either.

While they're eating dinner, Taylor tells him, "You need to practice more."

Their mom gives her the angriest look Sidney has seen in years. "Taylor."

"I'm just saying, you look awful." Taylor kicks Sidney's ankle under the table. "How much time have you spent on the ice in the last week?"

"Not enough," Sidney admits. He doesn't have to count up the hours to know that. "I had to get ready for the holidays and now I'd rather spend time with you."

"I'm sure you have lots of other responsibilities right now," their mom says. "It's not as though you've ever slacked off. Those negotiations are taking a lot out of you."

"I'm doing my best," Sidney says.

He hates soundbiting his family, but sometimes it's the only way to get them to change the subject. The last thing he wants over Christmas dinner is a long discussion of the lockout.

"Seriously, I'm worried about you," Taylor says later when they're cleaning the kitchen and their parents are watching TV.

Sidney says, "I'm okay," and knocks his shoulder against hers. "I mean, I'm not great, but when the lockout's over I'll be fine. It's just boring practicing all the time and never getting to play real games that count for anything."

Taylor bites her lip and gives him a brave smile, like she does when her team is down and there's nothing between them and defeat but her and her gloves. "Yeah, I can see how that gets to you. No goals that matter."

"Yeah." He can push himself to work as long and hard as anybody else could force him to go, but it all feels empty without someone to impress.

"Soon," Taylor says.

Sidney bites his tongue on his first response, which has words that are too salty for Christmas evening with his little sister. "I hope so."

The week between Christmas and New Year's is usually too busy with games. This year there are meetings and meetings and more sitting in offices, dealing with contract negotiations. Doing nothing except talking is almost as exhausting as trying to heal himself with sleep and the power of his mind saying over and over again, "Get better, damn it."

The negotiations mean saying the same thing in different ways and hoping someone will finally listen.

And they finally get through.

Sidney starts breathing again.

Then he books a flight home.

Then he texts Geno with "MERRY YOUR CHRISTMAS!!!!! ))))))))))))))))"

Geno writes back, "BEST EARLY PRESENT ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))" and Sidney doesn't stop smiling for hours.

He smiles while he's talking to Mario about staying with him again, and when he finally gets to hug Mario after months of barely being allowed to do more than wave. He smiles while he's getting to the airport, when twenty different fans ask for a picture and a signature, when he's on the plane, and when the plane is landing.

Sidney has resented Russia for being on the other side of the planet over and over again since the playoffs. In the last few hours before Geno's plane is scheduled to arrive, he knows he should get some sleep, but he's too busy hating, loathing, despising, and abominating Russia for being in Europe and Asia instead of somewhere sensibly close by like Ohio.

He doesn't let himself text Geno again, or pick him up at the airport, or anything like that. That would be too clingy, and besides, Geno's going to be jetlagged as fuck. That's not a good time to ask him any hard questions.

He's too wound up to masturbate, even. No matter which size or speed of vibrator he looks at, they all look wrong. Too plastic.

The one thing Sidney can do is the one thing he's almost always been able to do. He gets to Consol at five in the morning and recognizes all the cars, four beat-up winter rats that are the maintenance staff's, and Flower's car, and Orpik's.

They charge the ice like they haven't seen it in years, and when they finally stop yelling loudly enough that their voices bounce off of all the empty seats, it's perfect.

Sidney doesn't think about Geno for hours, not until he's changing out of his gear so they can have lunch without killing everybody in the restaurant from ingrained pad stench, and he sees Geno's stall empty. Not for long, but that one glance has him checking the time against the itinerary he memorized, plus adding some hours on for delays and customs.

He decides on a time when it would be okay to check in, four hours after Geno's flight is supposed to land, and then watches the minutes tick down.

He texts Geno at 1:12 on the dot, when he's had lunch with Brooksie, Flower, Duper, and everybody else who's showed up to skate and yell, "Fuck yeah!" at each other. He writes, "At Consol don't sleep come skate please," deletes the "please," and sends it.

He leaves his phone in his stall and goes back onto the ice, determined to exhaust himself.

People keep showing up all day, so there's random yelling at intervals. Guys drop their drills in the middle to bodycheck linemates they haven't seen in months. Flower charges out of the crease in the middle of a shoot-out so he can bearhug Tanger. One more round of yelling doesn't break Sidney's concentration.

Getting charged and knocked flat on his back like Fred Flintstone does. "Sid!" Geno yells, about an inch from his face, grinning like he's trying to break his cheeks.

Sidney doesn't kiss him.

It's not even the hardest thing he's done all week.

He smacks Geno's shoulder and yells his name right back. "You're here!"

Geno rolls off of him and hauls him up. In the white lights, he looks like someone who spent way too many of the last twenty-four hours cramped into a plane seat and not really sleeping. He's fucking gorgeous. Sidney wants to get him to skate for the next week straight.

And drag him immediately to bed.

"Dinner?" Sidney asks, before he thinks better of it. "You're going to be falling over by then."

"You falling over now," Geno says.

Laughing with him makes the ache in Sidney's chest better and worse at the same time. "Yeah, yeah. Come to dinner with me anyway."

"Okay. Keep me awake for dessert."

They're all exhausted and exhilarated by dinner time, and there's no way to get Geno away from the rest of the team. Nobody falls all the way asleep at the table, but Sidney has to nudge Geno a few times when he spaces out, and Geno does the same for him. "Good to be back," Geno says a couple of times, but he's mostly quiet.

"Yeah," Sidney agrees. He's talked out, and there's still the important thing he has to say.

It doesn't happen that first night, not when they both need to sleep so badly. Sidney's too tired to even bother jerking off.

The next day, Geno looks a little better when he comes in for the afternoon skate. "Hey," Sidney says, and they knock gloves. "Can we talk later?"

"Sure," Geno says.

Sidney hopes it's as easy as that.

Finding a few moments alone with Geno is harder than usual, but Sidney manages it by saying, "We really have to talk," and giving everybody else his captain glare to make them go away so he can say what he needs to without getting chirped forever and ever. He chases everyone else out of one of the back hallways where no one has any reason to be except to bother him with questions or high-five Geno.

The glare makes Geno frown at him. "What happen?"

"Nothing," Sidney says. "Everything's fine."

"Then why--" Geno fake-glares at him.

"I just wanted to say I really like you."

Geno grins and punches his shoulder. Sidney grins back, immensely relieved. Then Geno says, "I like you too. Is good to be back!"

Sidney tries to keep grinning, but it doesn't work. "No, I mean I want to kiss you."

"Oh." Geno looks down the hallway in both directions, and doesn't look at Sidney. Sidney's stomach turns over. "Hm."

It's nowhere near the worst possible response, but it's nothing like what Sidney's been hoping for. "Sorry," he says. His voice sounds weird, a little too loud, echoing off the bare walls. "Never mind."

"Not the best place to kiss," Geno says, much more quietly. "Maybe at home?"

"Oh," Sidney says, and hugs Geno hard. They're both still in their pads, and it feels like a celly after a great goal.

Only better.

"Not here," Geno says.

"But you really want to," Sidney says, half a question, in case he's misunderstanding things. He likes Susie's positive consent policies, and it's extra-important with Geno because things could get complicated if they aren't clear with each other. "You don't have to, you know. I'd still be your friend if--"

"Sid." This time Geno's frown is real. "Yes, I want to. Not here. Come home with me."

Sidney hesitates. He's never been to Geno's house, and all of the toys he has are in his bedroom at Mario's. "Let's go to dinner. And then I'll, I'll--make you coffee."

Geno grins, so he gets that offer, but only for a second. "Dinner tomorrow? I promise Lazy tonight."

It has to be okay. Geno has to maintain his rapport with his linemates. It only takes a moment to not sulk about it, and then Sidney's fine. "Sure, tomorrow." That will give him time to figure out where they’re going, maybe get a table somewhere they won't be likely to run into anyone else from the team. "But you do want to."

Geno lets out a breath that's somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and leans down. "Yes."

As first kisses go, it's too fast, too dry, and too light, but it's real.

Sidney can feel the back of his neck heating up. "Okay," he says, and it comes out wobblier than he wants it to. "Tomorrow."

"Yes," Geno says again, and he backs up a step.

It takes all of Sidney's energy not to reach for him. "Tomorrow," he says, one more time, and he turns away and starts down the hallway. Three steps later, Geno's laughing at him.

"Have to change first. This way."

"I knew that." Sidney turns around. One look at Geno's face and he starts laughing, too. "It's good to have you back."

"Yes." Geno puts his arm around Sidney's shoulders.

Maybe it looks weird when they go into the locker room that way, but nobody says anything. It's probably fine; Geno's always been pretty handsy.

Sidney tries to read more of _Romance for Dummies_ that night, but he falls asleep after a few pages. In the morning, he emails Susie, "I have a date! No time to talk. More later if there's any more later."

He decides against booking them a private room in a restaurant because that would only get people's attention. Instead, he makes them reservations like anybody else would, and then starts unpacking all the things he hasn't dealt with yet.

Every now and then he pauses while he's making sure his suits are hanging up neatly, or that the locking chest he has for toys is tucked away under the nightstand and not particularly obtrusive, and he pictures Geno there, how he'll stand, how he'll smile at Sidney if everything goes the way it should. How he'll look leaning against the pillows.

Maybe he'll be up for bending Sidney over the bed and fucking him that way. It's not as gentle as some of the positions Sidney's tried, and if Geno likes kissing during sex, it wouldn't be the best, but it's tempting. The best thing to do is whatever Geno wants most, Sidney knows, and he'll tell Geno that.

He probably won't end up using the same words the romance book says he should, but as long as Geno understands him, they'll be fine. They've had most of their really important conversations without help from the romance book anyway, and lots of them didn't even involve talking.

Sidney makes sure his things are put away neatly, and that he's got all his clothes laid out for the evening. Then there are workouts to do. The exercise doesn't take his mind off of what might happen, but at least it means he's doing something other than thinking and getting more and more impatient.

The dinner is the most awkward evening Sidney has spent with Geno since Geno could form real sentences in English without thinking for a minute apiece. Sidney's trying everything--he holds the door for Geno, he offers to pick out the wine, he starts a conversation that's not about hockey because people keep telling him he's got a one-track mind.

Geno stares at him like he's growing an extra head. "You okay?" he asks, when they've ordered their food and the waitress has left them alone again.

"Yes?" Sidney says. Actually, he's not. He's regretting that he didn't jerk off earlier when he had the chance because every time he looks at Geno, his brain is giving him snippets of the porn he's watched and the things he's done with other people, and drawing Geno in place of the naked guys. He wants to give up on dinner completely and take Geno home right then, but it would be rude.

"Okay," Geno says. "How was summer?"

Sidney vaguely remembers having plans for the summer that involved training and preparing for the season that didn't start on time. "I learned a lot," he says without thinking about it.

"Yeah?"

The problem with not talking about hockey is it doesn't leave him a hell of a lot of other subjects they have in common, at least if he's observing his parents' rules about no religion and no politics at the dinner table. All of history is about politics, so it's not something he can just bring up. Worse, Sidney hasn't had time to go golfing or fishing for a while, what with the extra conditioning time he's been putting in on top of the lockout. "I kind of started a new hobby," he says, because it's sort of true. "And I had some coaching."

His parents never told him not to talk about sex at the dinner table. It just never really came up.

Geno looks politely interested, which means he looks like he's ready to be bored to death with whatever TV show Sidney's been watching or craft he's learned to make in his spare time. "Coaching. What is new hobby?"

Another waiter comes by and seats people at the next table over. Sidney tries to imagine exactly how much the gossip blogs would love it if he explained exactly what he's been doing and someone heard him. "Um," he says. "I'll have to show you later."

"What kind of hobby is big secret?" At least Geno looks a little more awake when he's thinking about it. "You are embarrassed?"

"No, it's just kind of private." Sidney lowers his voice and leans across the table toward him. "I'll show you when we get home. Later. A lot of it, anyway."

"New karate class?" Geno guesses. "You going to use moves against opponents?"

"Sure." Sidney grins at him. "I'll show you how I learned to flip people over my shoulder."

"I can do that already without karate."

Any other time, Sidney would challenge him on that. Since he hasn't studied martial arts at all, he lets it pass. "I bet you can, but I wasn't just learning that." He waits for Geno to ask, and the moment takes too long. They're usually so much better than this at talking to each other. "I did a bunch of shopping, too."

Geno gives him a once-over. "Not good at it yet," he says. "Unless you went to store and said, 'This what I like. Give me things just like this. Nothing different.' Then--maybe is a new shirt?"

Sidney has no idea how old his shirt is. It's a shirt. He likes it, and it doesn't look terrible on him, at least not terrible enough that anyone's bothered to complain about it. "Not for clothes."

"No?" Geno tilts his head to one side like Sidney could've gone shopping for something else and he'd be able to figure it out by looking at him. His eyes get wide and he looks like he's about to burst out laughing. "Wait--Sid, really? You start karate and go shopping? Karate is dangerous. Did you shop because you needed new--" he looks at the people at the next table over "--protection?" But if they're paying any attention to him, they'll figure out what he means when he puts his hand on his crotch.

"Shut the--shut up," Sidney makes a face at him. "No, not for that either."

Geno sighs way too long and Sidney has to fight not to giggle at him. "You are tease," he says sadly. "I start to hope and you crush the hope."

It's a joke, but it's still a terrible thing to hear when they're on a date. "Other stuff for the--" Sidney tucks his hand under the table the same way Geno just did.

Geno coughs and laughs at the same time. He grabs for a napkin. "No," he says, when he stops wheezing and can breathe again.

"Yeah," Sidney says. He can feel his cheeks heating up with a blush, but he's not ashamed of what he bought. It's all good-quality stuff and most of it has been pretty effective, if not always as effective as the reviews said it could be for some people.

"You shopped a lot for--" Geno gestures toward the table. "All summer?"

"And some of the fall." That makes Geno laugh again, this time without coughing. Sidney shrugs and tries not to think about how lonely the fall was without him. "I had to keep busy somehow."

"Yes, of course." Geno shakes his head. "I busy playing hockey, and you bored, so you go shopping."

"How was the KHL?" Sidney asks. He's seen some coverage, of course, but it's not the same as talking to someone who was in the games.

That takes care of the conversation for the rest of dinner because once Geno is going, it only takes a few questions to keep him talking. Besides, it's fascinating.

When they finish and get the bill, Sidney grabs it before Geno can. "I've got this."

"Thanks," Geno says. He's smiling a little at Sidney, and he has been for most of the night, except when he's been laughing. "Next one's mine."

Sidney blinks at him and nods, wondering whether he means whatever dinner they have together next, or if he means they should try another date night. This one was kind of a mess. He barely talked about any of the things you're supposed to on dates. "Have you read any good books lately?"

There's a moment before Geno says, "Not in English."

"Right." Sidney takes out enough cash to cover the bill, the tax, and the tip, and tucks it into the little folder. "Are you all set?"

"Yes," Geno says, making it almost a question. They're missing their passes again.

When they're outside, they fall into step, which makes Sidney feel a little better. He reaches toward Geno's hand and then remembers they shouldn't do stuff like that in public, not unless they're drunk. "Hey," he says. "Do you--have you--do you do this a lot?"

"Have dinner with you?" Geno gives him a fistbump that's nowhere near as nice as holding hands. "Not in months."

"No, I meant, with, um, people like me." Sidney knows he sounds like an idiot but he's not going to ask Geno whether he's gay, since he's sure the answer's no. Besides, someone could overhear them and he doesn't want to be quoted talking about bisexuality on Deadspin, or worse, accused of using hateful language if he says "queer."

"I meet a Canadian girl years ago," Geno says. "She nice, but weird."

Sidney groans and shoves him toward the car. "Canadian girls are not weird."

"Good weird," Geno says, and he turns towards Sidney enough to grin again. "She is so weird, she is goalie."

Sidney can't glare at him and laugh at the same time. He holds it together long enough to say, "Asshole," and then realizes he just called his date an asshole, which is worse than Geno saying Taylor is weird. "Sorry."

"What for?"

"Um, calling you names." Sidney goes around to the passenger side of the car so he can let Geno in first.

Geno socks him in the arm, not as gently as he usually does when they're not in their gear. "Is okay, Sid."

"Okay," Sidney says, but he doesn't really believe it. He opens the door for Geno, who's still looking at him funny. He wonders whether he should shut Geno's door for him, but that sounds like a good way to shut his fingers in the door, the way they're not clicking.

The sex is going to be awful unless they find their rhythm.

"Fuck," Sidney says under his breath as he goes around to the driver's side. He knows better than to swear audibly in public because every time something like that happens, somebody's four-year-old who just loves hockey is listening much too carefully, but he wants to yell the word. He gets in the car and buckles up without looking at Geno. "Can I take you home?"

"No." Geno sounds like he's worried, and that's not good at all.

"What, do you want me to leave you here?" Sidney turns to look at him. "I'm sorry. I don't do this much with anybody."

Geno offers his hand palm-up over the emergency brake. "I know. You can take me home when you calm."

Taking his hand feels great, better because nobody outside the car should be able to see them, so it's safe, or anyway as safe as they're going to get while they're sitting in a public place.

It's the first time they've really touched each other since they kissed, and that feels incredibly strange. Usually when they knock into each other, they're not skin-to-skin.

Sidney shivers. "I'm calm," he says, and takes a few deep breaths to prove that it's true. "That was just about the worst date ever, wasn't it?"

"No," Geno says without even stopping to think. "We talk, we laugh, we have things to say. No crying, no talking about old girlfriends--or boyfriends. Not best, but not worst."

"Sorry. I guess I shouldn't have asked who you've dated, then, if that would make it worse." That's probably somewhere in the second chapter of _Romance for Dummies_ , but he never got that far.

"Some girlfriends, some boyfriends," Geno says, as if it's that easy. It's easier for him to say than Sidney's expecting, except then he stops and thinks about the rest of his sentence. "Except, not date boyfriends. Not boyfriends."

"Lovers?" Sidney asks.

Geno makes a face. "Not love. Just sex, mostly. And talking."

"Okay." Sidney squeezes Geno's hand. "I don't care if you don't want to date me, either. I'm okay with sex and talking. And hockey."

Geno laces their fingers together. He's warm even though it's January-cold in the car. "No, only sex and talking," he says. "I done with hockey. Too boring."

"Jesus, get out of my car." Sidney tries to snatch his hand away, but Geno holds him too tightly until they're both laughing. When Sidney recovers, he says, "Now I'm really not sorry I called you an asshole."

"Good." Geno pats the back of Sidney's hand and lets him go. "Let's go home."

Maybe that means they're done with the talking part for a while. Sidney hopes so, since it hasn't gone anywhere near as well as hockey. He starts the car. "You mean your house? Or you can come over. I have some of the, um--stuff--I can show you."

"The penis things?" Geno asks.

They're going to have to work on the right words, clearly. Sidney's heard enough jokes about Dildo, Newfoundland that he bets Geno's heard them too, whether or not anybody bothered to explain them. It'll be easier to do show-and-tell when he has them at hand. "Yeah, those."

"Sound like fun to me."

"Most of them are," Sidney says. "I haven't used them all yet. You know how sometimes you see something online and you try ordering it--like a pair of pants, right, and it doesn't fit even though it looks like it should?"

Geno chokes softly and starts laughing again. "When you order pants online?"

"A couple of times. Just the stretchy kind--shut up, shut up. Anyway, it's like that, only, um." Sidney coughs. "Inside out, sort of."

Geno's laughing so hard Sidney's afraid he's going to start crying. "You have special made penis things too, or just pants?"

"Just pants, God. They make a pretty big range of dildos."

"You have one of each?"

Sidney has to think about that for a moment. "No, just a good selection."

"Show me?" Geno asks.

"Sure." Sidney hasn't gotten to do show-and-tell with his collection since the last time he hooked up with someone before he got back to Pittsburgh, and it's been a while. The rules are different when he's sharing space with a bunch of other people. "We probably can't break out the Magic Wand, though. The walls are pretty thick, but not that thick."

"Magic wand? You have sex like Harry Potter now?"

"No. I'll--well, I'll show you, but I'm not turning it on. Although it is really good for shoulders, too, so maybe we could get away with it." He likes the thought of Geno relaxed in his bed. The people he's practiced with didn't spend the night, and he didn't want them to, but he knows how Geno is in the morning already. "Are you going to want to go home afterward?"

It takes Geno a moment to answer, and he doesn't sound as happy as he did about Harry Potter sex. "If you want."

"We'll see, but I can always drive you in tomorrow." Sidney smiles at him, hoping that will make him feel better.

"We see," Geno says.

There are a lot of other questions Sidney knows he should ask before they kiss again, but one of the things he's learned is that you can't just go with the words people are saying about sex. "No" is simple enough, but there are degrees of "yes" that are hard to understand unless he's paying attention. He can't read Geno's expressions while they're driving. Instead of starting on the list in his head, he asks how Jeffrey is doing.

Dog stories, like baby stories, can go on as long as the person listening says, "Uh-huh," and "Aww," and "Eew," to the person telling the story. That fills the time until they arrive.

Geno looks a little freaked out, like he hasn't visited a bunch of times, like somehow this is different just because they're probably going to have sex. He takes a deep breath before he opens the car door.

Sidney wonders whether chirping him about it will help or not. "We can just play video games and crash if you want to," he says. It comes out sounding a little pathetic, like that's the only thing he wants to do.

But Geno gives him a crooked smile, and that's better than the way he froze a second ago. "Show me shopping, then video games maybe."

"Okay."

They don't have to stop to talk to anybody, which is good because Geno looks like he thinks Mario's going to jump out from around a corner and yell at him to get off the property. Sidney wants to take his hand again, but they haven't talked about who they're going to tell. He might get away with touching Geno when they're in gear and not make anybody wonder if they're doing anything. Like this, it's not an option unless they're going to have a long, drawn-out conversation, which sounds like hell.

Sidney locks his bedroom door once they're in and asks, "Shopping first?"

Geno says, "Sure."

"Can I kiss you? I mean, I want to show you everything, but--" Before he can finish the sentence, Geno kisses him, sweet and light.

Sidney hugs him without thinking about it and deepens the kiss. He can't flirt, he can't talk about things that aren't hockey, but he's learned how to do this, and he's not going to let Geno down for a second.

Geno makes a hungry sound against his mouth and moves his hand to Sidney's waist, which is all the encouragement Sidney needs to lean against him, pressing him back against the locked door. He smells like he always does, the same detergent, the same spicy-sweet scent of his skin, and it's such a good smell Sidney wants to bury his face in Geno's neck. "This okay?" Sidney asks, hitching himself up on Geno's shoulders for a second so he can wrap his leg around Geno's waist and kiss him harder.

"Fuck," Geno says quietly, which doesn't sound like a no, and sucks on Sidney's bottom lip till he can see stars, then breaks off, breathing hard.

"I can let you go," Sidney offers, in case he's going too fast.

Geno groans against his mouth and pulls Sidney closer with both hands on his ass. It's not going to be easy to balance against him for long, but right then it's great. Sidney can feel the heat of his body through their clothes. They can't undress while they're holding each other this closely, and that might be a problem soon, especially if Geno keeps moving against him with short, jerky thrusts, and if he moans in Sidney's ear again they're screwed.

"Hang on," Sidney says, and lets him go, backing off. The room isn't moving like he's on the ice; that's just his knees, and he can make them work if he tries. Geno is holding himself up against the door, reaching for him. "No, we have to--I want to know what you want next."

"You."

It's not the most complete answer to the question Sidney has ever heard, but it hits him hard enough he almost goes back to kissing Geno and lets all the plans go. "Right. Yeah. Me too. But I want to--if it's okay, I mean--can I blow you?"

Geno laughs. "Yes. Come here."

"Not against the door, jeez. On the bed. It'll be easier on my knees." Sidney backs away from him, because the longer he stands there looking at Geno, flushed and grinning and wanting him, the harder it is to stick with something like the plan. Plans never last very long, but he can at least talk through it before it goes to hell. "And maybe with your clothes off."

"Ah. Yes." Geno pulls off all the layers of shirts he's wearing at once and balls them up. They'll be wrinkled to hell and back by morning, and Sidney doesn't care. There's an iron somewhere and they'll deal with it when they have to.

While Geno's taking off his pants, Sidney peels his shirt off and goes through the next part of the plan so he has said it out loud before they're naked. That's one of Susie's rules, and it's starting to make more sense now. He's been naked with Geno a lot of times, but it's never been like this. "And I was thinking maybe, if you like it, I could finger you, because I definitely want you to finger me when--I mean if--you blow me. Maybe at the same time," he adds, leaning down to get his socks off. "I mean, sometimes 69 is awkward and I'm afraid I'm going to knee somebody in the face, but we're good, right? I know how you move and you can probably read me upside down and backwards, too." He stands up to get his pants off and smiles at Geno.

Geno's staring at him, one leg out of his pants. His eyes are a little wide and he doesn't look freaked out, just turned on, but he's not moving. "You think about this lots."

"Well, yeah." Sidney sets his pants out flat so they won't need a touch-up. "Ever since I figured out I wanted to."

"Okay," Geno says, and he doesn't ask how long that's been.

Sidney decides after a second's reflection that he doesn't want to specify, exactly. He's not sure when he started feeling the way he does, even if he'll never forget the moment it all fell into place, in the middle of a celly in front of thousands of people, which was not a good time for it at all. "Do mint condoms work for you?" he asks. "The strawberry ones are awful. Or there's unlubricated, or--" he opens the first layer of the toybox, where all the consumables go. "Huh, it looks like I tossed the banana ones."

Geno looks into the box and shakes his head a little. "First aid kit?"

"Just in case." Sidney takes out a strip of the mint condoms--they're not great, but like Susie says, they're better than herpes--and two different types of lube, setting them on the bedside table. "Do you like the KY-thick stuff or the thinner kind?"

"What?" Geno reaches into the box. "Saran wrap? For sex?"

Sidney nods. "Dental dams are a pain in the ass. And have you ever tried the cut-the-condom thing? It's like wrestling with a balloon. Besides, Saran wrap doesn't taste like anything." When Geno frowns a little, Sidney says, "Don't worry, it's not the microwaveable kind. I checked."

"Okay," Geno says, and puts it back.

"Did you want--I mean, if you'd rather, we can skip the 69 and I could rim you. That would be--" he imagines it for a second, Geno's legs over his shoulders, the noises he might make, the way he'd open up "--fun."

"Later," Geno says, and kisses him again, right there on the floor. It feels different naked, the way it always does, more intense and personal.

Sometimes that's too much, but personal is exactly what Sidney wants right now. "God, you feel good," he says, trying to touch Geno everywhere at once. "But the bed's up there."

Geno gets up and offers him a hand, then pulls him to his feet and into another hug, another series of kisses that make Sidney moan. "If you want boring bed, okay," Geno says, grinning at him.

The last thing he wants is to be boring. "We can fuck on the floor, then."

"No, bad for knees." Geno nibbles Sidney's ear and for a second he's not sure he can stand up anymore.

Also, he wants Geno's dick in his mouth as soon as he can get it, and he's been waiting long enough. "Then I guess we're stuck with the bed." Sidney tugs him down gently and reaches for the condoms.

He had to practice putting them on with his mouth a lot till he got the trick. It's much more difficult with a real person who's moaning his name and stroking his hair, but he gets it after a false start. "Here," he says, and offers Geno the other one.

Geno looks a little dazed, and that's when Sidney remembers. "Crap. Gloves. Latex or nitrile?"

"What?" Geno asks.

"I think the nitrile ones are open and they smell better." Sidney gets up, ignoring the way Geno reaches for him. "I'm still trying to find them in a color that's less, um, purple. The blue isn't any better, though." He opens the box and takes out two pairs of gloves. "You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find them in the right size, though," he says while he's putting on his pair. "Aren't there any big doctors?"

Geno puts on the gloves Sidney gives him, smiling a little. At least he appreciates being prepared for anything. "No idea," he says.

"There have to be. Anyway." Sidney gets back on the bed and hugs him again. It feels stranger with the gloves on. Maybe they won't need them, soon, if things work out. The thought makes Sidney shiver. It would be a risk, but it's a risk he'd like to take with Geno. "Do you want to be on top, or should we try it on our sides, or--"

"Sid, breathe." Geno kisses him and traces the line of his cheek. His fingers are warming up the gloves.

Sidney sighs at himself. "Oh, man, the lube is cold, too."

"Shh." Geno shakes his head. "Warms up fast. Here, let me get condom."

"I can--oh, God--" Sidney buries his face in Geno's shoulder while Geno rolls it onto him. "Okay. Okay. Did I forget anything else important?"

"Relax?" Geno suggests.

Sidney laughs. "Okay, you're right. So this time, I'll be on top, and if it doesn't work just let me know. And there are extra pillowcases, so don't worry about them."

"Not what I meant," Geno says, but he stops arguing and lies back easily enough.

Sidney takes the slightly thicker lube because he knows he can handle the other stuff just fine. If Geno has preferences, they'll figure it out later. "You feel so good," he says, and it's a weird time to think that because he's never felt good kneeling over somebody's face before, or lying down with them, belly to belly. It's been worth trying, but never for its own sake before they got their mouth on his dick.

Next time they'll have to touch each other more before they glove up.

Geno kisses the inside of his thigh and Sidney has to bite his lip to be quiet. "You okay?"

"I'm great. Are you?"

"Yes. Just--" Geno takes a breath that's maybe not as deep as it would be if Sidney wasn't pinning him down. "A lot."

Whatever that means, it doesn't sound like a complaint, but it certainly doesn't sound like positive consent. "Do you want to stop?"

"What?" Geno squeezes his leg. "No? You?"

"No, I don't want to stop. I really want to suck you off."

Geno laughs and Sidney feels it through his whole body. "Okay. Do it."

It's not quite as easy to do as it is to say, especially because he wasn't kidding about wanting to finger Geno, but he puts a good clump of lube on his fingers to warm up, then eases Geno's erection into his mouth.

"Mm. Better," Geno says, and licks him slowly and thoroughly.

Sidney makes a choked-off noise, happy and frustrated at the same time, and realizes how much he's screwed up. He can't ask any questions like this, not unless he makes Geno stop to answer him, and he doesn't want to do that.

He tries to go by the sounds Geno's making, half a moan, half a sigh, sometimes maybe a groan. And Geno didn't say he was opposed to fingering. He bobs his head deeper a few times, taking Geno into his throat and appreciating the way Geno's stomach clenches. Then he lets up a little so he can tell what Geno's reacting to and eases one slick finger into the crack of his ass.

"Oh," Geno says, letting him go completely.

"Sorry, sorry." Sidney pulls his hand away.

"No, forgot, is all. Give me lube?"

There's a bottle to Geno's right on the table, but Sidney can't think well enough to give him directions blind. It's easier to hand him the tube he can find. "Do you like it fast or slow? I--you can be pretty rough with me, actually. And if you want to, you can fuck my mouth."

"Oh--fuck," Geno says, and presses his forehead against Sidney's thigh. "Slow, for me. All--please."

"You got it." As soon as Sidney hears the bottle of lube hit the bed, he takes Geno in his mouth again and presses his finger in as slowly as he can manage. It's harder because Geno's not being that slow with him and the burn makes him writhe and want to give it back, but--that's not what Geno wants.

It's a little like trying to pat his head and rub his stomach while somebody else is tapping on his ass and tickling his toes, all in a different rhythm. They get it figured out quickly, though, like Sidney knew they would.

Geno takes him at his word and works him hard, stretching him open relentlessly until Sidney's shaking, trying not to come, trying not to give as good as he's getting. He holds out till Geno thrusts up into his throat when Sidney presses a second finger into him, so fucking slowly, and it's just the right kind of too much. Sidney moans around him at the pressure, the heat, at knowing that they're really, finally doing this. After all the practice, all the phone sessions and advice, it's real and he can have it. He comes hard, trying to hold still so he doesn't choke Geno.

"Oh, man," Sidney says afterward, trying to catch his breath. "That was--fuck. You should fuck me, if you want to, now." He tries to figure out where his knees are so he can get up without knocking Geno out.

"This nice," Geno says. His voice is rough.

"I can at least get off you. Um. Do you want me to?"

"No, stay." Geno pats his ass. "Keep going. Little faster."

Managing the speed is easier with Geno's mouth free so he can say, "Yes," or sigh. Once Sidney can really concentrate on the long, languid strokes and teasing him just right, exactly how he needs, Geno comes pretty quickly, shivering hard.

"All set?" Sidney asks.

"Yes. Get up." Geno smacks his thigh and Sidney kneels up. "Can't sleep in gloves."

"I want a shower before I sleep. Do you? Or I can bring you a washcloth, or--"

"Shower." Geno grins sleepily up at him. "Quiet shower."

It's quiet because they're both half-asleep, and because they spend as much of it kissing as they can. Under the running water, it's easier to touch Geno everywhere, except that Sidney keeps falling asleep a little and it would be embarrassing as hell to drown naked with a teammate.

They don't even have to talk about who gets which side of the bed. Sidney's had that discussion enough times with people who thought they might sleep over that he appreciates the way Geno lets him get in first, then cuddles up beside him.

The only person who might notice there's anything out of the ordinary the next day is Flower, who asks Sidney, "Good night?"

That's when he realizes he's grinning. "Yeah. I'm just so glad to be back, you know?"

"Fuck, yeah," Flower says, and high-fives him.

That night, Sidney pulls out everything in the box to introduce Geno to the possibilities. He wraps his hand around some of them, tries turning all of them on, drops some of them, and basically looks like a kid in a toy store. "You use all these?" he asks with a steel dildo in one hand and a rippled not-really-rabbit-shaped vibrator shivering away on his palm.

"Not all at once," Sidney says.

"Show me?"

From there it's a perfectly logical progression of events until the point where Sidney's on his knees, Geno's fingers in his mouth keeping him quiet by the power of suggestion, while Geno's fucking him, a long, thin vibrator in his ass squeezed up against Geno's dick, filling him with every stroke. The toy inside him is buzzing in chorus with the smallest plug he has, which is holding Geno open and pulsing in a pattern Sidney can't remember well enough to anticipate.

When they've both come and turned off and extracted the toys, Sidney lies with his head on Geno's chest and enjoys the smell of his clean, fresh sweat. "So, how do you like my penis things?"

Geno tousles his hair. "Almost as good as your penis."

Sidney laughs. "It doesn't do that cycling thing , you know, whirr-Whirrr-Whirrrr!"

"Still is best."

"I'd rather play with yours." Sidney reaches for his thigh.

Geno knocks his hand away lightly. "In morning."

Sidney huffs and sits up to kiss him. "This is why battery-operated boyfriends get all the good press. They don't give up on you when you want another round."

"Can still blow you," Geno offers, but he yawns after he says it.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Dinner tomorrow?" Geno asks.

"Sure," Sidney says, and completely forgets about it.

He doesn't forget in the sense that he doesn't show up, but he forgets that Geno asked while they were naked, so it's sort of a date. He doesn't dress up, he doesn't make reservations, and he doesn't do any of the things people are supposed to do when they're trying to be impressive.

Most of them went a little weird with Geno last time, and he already does the really important ones anyway. Sidney always listens to him, and he knows Geno's listening, too.

That should mean their second date is as great as their sex life.

If it's possible for a date to be worse than their first date, it's the second one. Sidney spills soup on himself so he looks like he came in his pants, and every time he thinks about it, he starts giggling again, which sets Geno off, too. Nobody wants to be on a date with someone with the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old, but he can't make himself stop.

The only thing he can think of to say that isn't a dumb remark about pants, soup, or semen is, "You ready for the Islanders?"

"Yeah," Geno says, and they talk over some of the tape they've been reviewing, like grown-ups.

It lasts a whole five minutes, if that.

"I just hope I can score," Sidney says.

"Look like you already score." Geno grins at him.

Sidney snorts and starts giggling again.

A guy at the next table over says, "Excuse me," and he tries to stop and apologize.

"Sorry, it was just--"

"Aren't you Sidney Crosby? My daughter would just love an autograph."

"Sure," Sidney says.

"Can I get a picture with you and--wow, Malkin?" the guy asks.

"As long as sitting down," Geno says.

Sidney hopes the guy's family never asks him what he said to make Sidney smile like that in the photo.

The thing is, once one person starts, if he doesn't say no, the rest of the meal gets interrupted too, most of the time, and there goes the date.

Sidney gives Geno an apologetic smile when the third group of fans comes over, but Geno is talking to a kid who's shorter than his shoulder when he's sitting down, and doesn't seem to notice.

He tries to apologize again in the car on the way home. "I'm sorry, that really sucked."

Geno says, "What?"

"The--you can't even call it a date, can you?"

"Was fun," Geno says, but he's too nice about that kind of thing.

"Yeah, I bet you loved it when Grandma over there said you were going to make some woman very lucky someday."

"She thought nice thing to say. Was wrong, but still not sucked."

Sidney sighs. "I should've hired someone to teach me about dating, too."

Geno's quiet for a long moment, all through a red light. "Dating, too?" he asks. "What else people teach you?"

"About sex," Sidney says, and stares at Geno, who's choking.

Or possibly laughing.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," Geno says, waving his hand. "You hire people? For sex?"

"No. Okay--hang on." Sidney pulls into the parking lot of the next strip mall they pass, because if Geno's going to make noises like he's dying, they're going to have to stop for this conversation. He parks well away from the stores and hopes nobody comes by to find out whether they're passing drugs or making out. It shouldn't take too long, so he leaves the car running. There's no reason to freeze them both after a terrible date. "I didn't hire people to have sex with me," Sidney says. "I wouldn't do that. I hired people to teach me about sex, which is totally different."

"They teach you. And you have sex with them?" Geno asks. He looks like he's not sure whether he should laugh yet.

"No." Sidney shakes his head. The thought of having sex with Susie makes his stomach hurt. She'd be really good at it, obviously, but he doesn't want her like that. He didn't really want Randy like that, either, but he was part of the process. "Well, one of them, but that was his decision."

Geno shakes his head, not quite smiling anymore. "After you pay him?"

"Well, I gave him half the fee in advance, yeah, but I was definitely not paying him to have sex with me." Sidney frowns at Geno. "I'm not like that."

"Okay. What is difference?"

"I asked him to show me how to do a few things, and he said it would work better as a hands-on demonstration."

Geno says, "Sid--" and it sounds like he's going to laugh, now.

"It's hard to learn a skill from just a lecture, you know that." Sidney spreads his hands. "If you're working with a coach, they don't just tell you what to do, they show you what to do. You don't say you're paying them to play hockey with you, do you?"

"Practice, drills, not game. Is not same thing."

Sidney sighs. "I know that. What I did with--that guy--" because if he has to say Randy's name out loud, Geno really will laugh at him, and maybe Google Randy too "--wasn't anything like what I'm doing with you. That was practice. This is a relationship. Right?" He offers Geno his hand over the emergency brake like on their first date.

After a second, Geno puts his hand in Sidney's. "You have sex with lots of people?"

"No! No, just you, since you got back." Sidney squeezes his hand. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Before I back?" Geno asks.

"Oh. A few." Sidney thinks. "Apart from the guy who was my coach, six. I mean, since I started working on it."

"Okay," Geno says. "All guys?"

"No," Sidney says, thinking of the person whose pronouns he had to look up so he could prove to Susie that he could spell them. "But all one-night stands. Nothing serious, just practice, like the shinny of sex."

Geno laughs once. "You tell them that?"

"No. I don't think any of them knew who I was. That would've been more complicated."

"So--six nights, you have sex. Plus coach."

"And I only spent one night actually having sex with him--and it was his idea, okay--so, seven nights, last year. Yeah."

Geno makes another choking noise and stares at him. "Seven times you have sex."

"Nine, now, counting you. Well, twelve, sort of, but that was a mess."

"Twelve," Geno says, shaking his head. "And you do that to me?"

Sidney asks, "Could you tell? Was it that bad?"

Geno covers his face with his hands and laughs so hard he cries. Sidney looks for tissues in the back seat, since he knows Geno won't be able to speak English till he can stop laughing so hard, and probably not for a while after that.

It takes a long time.

Sidney starts folding one of the extra tissues into a paper penguin to pass the time.

"Sid," Geno says, eventually, hiccupping with giggles, "Was not bad. Twelve times. Ever. Really?"

"Well, with other people, yeah." Sidney balls up the penguin, which is too floppy to hold its shape, and throws it at Geno when he snickers. "I mean, I did stuff by myself, too."

"With dildos," Geno says. It sounds funny when he says it, but it's a pretty funny word to start with. "And vibrators. And--butt plugs."

Sidney says, "Sure."

Geno starts laughing again and Sidney holds out the box of tissues to him. "Who your coach? Porn star?"

"You wouldn't have heard of him," Sidney says. He's never going to give that one away, no matter how many times Geno asks. "But that was mostly just hands-on stuff. I've never even met the person who taught me the most, but she's great."

"Must be, teach you to fuck like that without meeting you. Phone sex?" Geno asks.

Sidney makes a face. He doesn't want to think too hard about how good Susie probably is at phone sex. "No. I mean, we talk about sex, but we don't have phone sex--or cybersex, or anything. She just answers my questions. Like a teacher."

"Some teacher," Geno says.

"Yeah, she is." Sidney's going to have to introduce them soon. He wonders whether she's going to want to make Geno take his shirt off, too. That could get a little awkward.

"Why hire her now?" Geno asks after a moment.

"Because I was terrible at sex. Why else would I get someone to teach me?"

"And you wake up and say, 'I need to fuck better!' one day?"

"No, dumbass." Sidney smacks his arm. "I realized I wanted to have sex with you and I didn't want to do it wrong. Except then the lockout happened, so I couldn't have sex with you, and I got a lot of practice instead."

Geno blinks at him and pauses way too long before the next sentence. "You learn to fuck for me?"

"I got a lot out of the process," Sidney says, like he would for the media if he was talking about contract negotiations instead of collecting vibrators of various sizes, shapes, and speeds. "But--yeah, basically."

Geno leans across the center console and kisses him, tangling his fingers in Sidney's hair. "So when you say you like me," he says, and lets the sentence hang.

"I meant it," Sidney says, wondering what he's waiting for.

"I like you, too," Geno says, smiling at him. Whatever he needed, it looks like he got it. "What is next lesson about fucking? Bondage? Whips? Chains?"

Sidney gives him a rueful smile. "I think I have to go back to basics, and learn how to go on a date without looking like an idiot. Can you help me with my homework?"

"If you help me learn to fuck better, sure."

"You're great," Sidney says. "Who said you're not? I mean--okay, it's only been twice, but no complaints here."

Geno reaches over and pats his thigh. "Can always improve technique. You show me lessons, I help with dating. Deal?"

Sidney shakes his hand. "Deal. What do you want your first lesson on?"

"Your favorite thing. What is it?"

There's no one answer to that. "Depends on the day. How do you feel about rimming?"

"No idea," Geno says.

Sidney grins. "Okay, we'll start there." 


End file.
